Lost In Search

Oh, have thou not searched for affection
In the dearthest corner of this existence,
Just to find vanity, despair
Displeasure even in delights
And no bittersweet tales of a sultry summer afternoon,
Or a cup of coffee with one dearmost
That triumphs over many a thousand nights.

As if every piece of admiration in writing--
Every song bespoke, and offering of soul--
Is pretty lies sad little poets tell for wine and bread.
And promises of innocence,
Moments valuable than eternity,
Keep getting lost on bad memories' hold;
As empty bottles and broken hearts fill the place instead.